


Lest You Forget

by orphan_account



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Birthday Party, Domestic Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6704962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“You forgot,” she says, voice halfway between accusing and amused, because she knows him and he's always secretly suspected that him being a walking disaster contributes to her entertainment more often than it annoys her. Otherwise she'd probably run away screaming a while ago.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He stops at the counter and accepts a steaming mug of his own from her. “I forgot what, exactly?” </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lest You Forget

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rivulet027](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivulet027/gifts).



> You wanted gen found family fic and happy Hawkeyes, so yes, well, birthday fluff.

As a place for celebrations go, Clint's apartment is not a very good fit. It's the kind of place designed for people that have no other concerns than whether they'll eat their lunch at the counter or in front of the TV or don't have any need for closed doors when they have someone over for the night. 

And while Clint very much qualifies for the first point, he hasn't had anyone over _like that_ since he's first moved in, and anyway, if he did, and they'd stayed the night, they'd probably be running into Kate in the morning. Kate, who's sat on aforementioned counter dressed all fancy, with a coffee mug in her hand, a frown on her face, and who's giving him a long-suffering sigh when she sees him padding down the stairs in boxers and a T-shirt. 

“You forgot,” she says, voice halfway between accusing and amused, because she knows him and he's always secretly suspected that him being a walking disaster contributes to her entertainment more often than it annoys her. Otherwise she'd probably run away screaming a while ago. 

He stops at the counter and accepts a steaming mug of his own from her. “I forgot what, exactly?” 

“Dummy.” Kate cocks her head at him, now full-on grinning. She might pat his head fondly any moment. “The birthday party.” 

Because Kate has invited people over. To his place. Which she informed him about after the fact, rather than asking beforehand. The strange thing is that he doesn't even mind. He's pretty sure she knew he wouldn't, too. Clint blushes a bit. Yes, okay. He could have remembered _that_. He did have it together enough to remember her actual birthday four days ago, which might also be the reason why she's so good-natured in the face of his memory malfunction right now. 

“Oh,” he says and takes a long gulp from his coffee. 

“Yes,” Kate says. “Oh.” She reaches over to take the mug from him once he's emptied it, and, as he quickly finds out, not to refill it. He tries to get it back to do that himself. It's no use – she bats his hand away and looks at him sternly. “Now go get dressed – something nice, a dress shirt at the very least – and then you can come back down and help clear out the living room so we can put up the table.” 

Kate has lent a camping table from Billy's adoptive parents, which him and Teddy will bring along when they arrive. America will be there too, and Cassie, and Simone from downstairs – it's all coming back to him now. Also Natasha, since, at some point while he was too busy with is own crap and didn't pay attention, Kate and Natasha became _bros_. He's still trying to figure out what he thinks of _that_ development. 

“Off you go!” Kate commands when he's been standing rooted to the spot in thought for too long, and shoos at him with both hands. 

And because arguing with Kate Bishop is not something Clint has the spoons for less than an hour after rolling out of bed and on one mug of coffee, he obeys, swings around on his bare heels and schlepps himself back upstairs. While he sorts out the birthday attire situation, he wonders when his place basically became Kate's place as well – approximately some time between when he recruited her for his extracurricular activities and her escape to LA, he figures. But she's reclaimed it since she came back. 

Upon padding back down, dressed in clean jeans and the nicest plain dress shirt in his possession, Kate inspects him with a raised eyebrow. He parades a bit, turns this way and that, until she smiles and rolls her eyes. 

“Acceptable,” she decides, and then points to the relative mess that is the living room area. Clint would call it _relative_ because it can get so much worse, but he'd agree that it's not quite fitting for guests. 

Without another word, Clint marches past her to get the trash can and organize a broom and dustpan. They make quick work, tidying and cleaning, and then move the sofa out of the way. The latter happens despite Lucky's vocal protests, and Clint does feel a little bad about relocating the dog bed to a corner in the kitchen. But. It's only for today. He'll deal, and after a treat or three, he'll have forgiven them. 

Clint's just putting away the last cleaning supplies when there's a ring at the door, and moments later Simone's kids spill into the loft, squealing Clint's name. Ever since the TV date for Christmas, they seem to have decided he's good people. Simone is carrying a casserole, and she laughs and tells them to be gentle with _Uncle Clint_. She's been calling him that in front of them more often since _Uncle Barney_ left, or maybe it's a mutual effort, Clint trying to make up for his brother's screw-up and hopefully succeeding. 

Billy and Teddy arrive soon after, each carrying half a camping table and a few chairs. They set it up, and with a nice enough tablecloth and some candles, it's all starting to look appropriately festive. America and Cassie show next, shortly after one another and each of them with a bowl of salad. Last but not least, he gets treated to the image of the Black Widow standing in his door way carrying a pot roast. It's wrapped in tinfoil, even, hinting that she might have made it herself, and she glares at him in such a way that promises loss of a limb if he dares to tell _anyone_. 

Clint accompanies her into the kitchen, where Simone is helping Kate distribute the food into serving dishes. He organizes himself a fork and peeks over her shoulder, but lets out a rather undignified yelp when she catches his wrist and wrenches the fork out of his hand. 

“Like an old married couple,” Simone says, chuckling, while Clint pouts and rubs his wrist. “If I didn't know any better...” 

“Platonic life partners is probably more like it,” Cassie helpfully supplies from somewhere behind them, and Clint slowly turns so he can huff at them both. She definitely got her quick mouth from her father; Lang's always liable to come out with comments like that too. 

He looks to Kate for help, but he's not going to get any from her – she's doubled over laughing, and he's not really sure it's the ribbing or his reactions that have her in stitches. And he finds he doesn't care that it's on his expense; it's her birthday party, and if she's having a good time then that's all that matters. They've both been through enough recently. She deserves this; she deserves to be happy. He swallows his rebuttal and motions for a dish, so he can carry it over to the table. 

Turns out it wobbles a little, and none of the superheroes or superheroes-in-training are going to have a career in cooking, which means that at the end of the meal Simone's casserole is the only dish that's not just half-empty. But they're all chatting and joking around, and Kate looks content and relaxed and laughs more often than she's done in weeks, Lucky having settled by her feet, surrounded by their friends. All in all, he'd call her birthday dinner a roaring success.


End file.
